The Mess I Made
by Shatteredsand
Summary: He loves her. He doesn't stand a chance. Gay girls don't do straight boys. Right?


**AN: I should be working on a Dance Until Dawn, but this popped into my head and won't go away. So, one-shot. lol. I just realized that they have the best ship name. Really. Stea. It'd be pronounced "stay". How neat is that?**

**Summary: He loves her. He doesn't stand a chance. Gay girls don't do straight boys. Right?**

**Warnings: Language**

**Disclaimer: I don't own "Skins".**

**The Mess I Made**

He doesn't know how it happens exactly. One minute they're all partying together, and then the others have all spilt off. Tony and Michelle to fuck. Chris to find more pills. Daisy to dance. Abbud to try and lose his virginity. And Stan should be doing the same. But Tea is still in the room with him, and he's high, so it seems like a good idea to do something irrevokably stupid.

He crashes his lips to hers. And she _lets _him.

And then they're making out. Hot and heavy, and he can't even comprhend what's happening, but it definitely _is _happening. Clothing is coming off, and dear god, they're _naked _and this is _happening_.

Stan finally pops his cherry after lying about it for weeks.

She walks away from him without a word when it's done, and all he can do is stare after her.

* * *

School on Monday is torture. He knows without her having to tell him that what happened between them is _staying _between them, and that they will not speak of it ever again. She's just the same, and he tries to be. To act as completely unaffected.

He never mastered that skill as well as Tony and Tea seemed to.

And Tony notices everything, so of course he notices Stan's even more lackluster performance than usual. He interogates him after class and Stan's a shit liar so a variation of the truth comes out.

"I...got laid...I guess."

"You guess?" Tony mocks, with just the softest edge of malice. "You're not sure?"

"No. I, I, I _did_. "

"With who?" Tony asks, a little incredulous in a way that hits Stan below the belt. For a second he imagines his best friend's face if he told him it was Tea, but Tony would never believe him and Tea would castrate him for blabbing so...

"Dunno. Some girl at the party." Stan shrugs. "We were high."

Tony nods as he processes this new information. The drugs obviously make everything make sense because suddenly Tony is all smiles and congratuations. "Finally made a man of you!" He laughs. Stan would be offended but Tea just walked by, and he stopped listening the moment he saw her.

* * *

Jesus, he knows what Tea Marvelli looks like naked. And how has the world not _exploded _from sheer mind-fuckery?

He can tell you she has a tattoo that rests on her hip, just above the swell of her ass, and he doesn't know what it means or why she got it. He can tell you that she made this little whimper when he touched her right _there_, and she used those perfectly manicured nails to cling to him like she was never going to let go. He can tell you that she fights to keep her eyes open until the very last second, until she just _can't _anymore. But he doesn't know why she tries so hard. He can tell you she didn't bleed, that he didn't pop her cherry the way she popped his, but he's not sure who did or if it was anyone else at all.

It's fucking bugging the hell out of him. Knowing all these little things without knowing enough.

It shouldn't.

* * *

Stan stares at Michelle and tries to remember all the things he loves about her. All the softness in her and all the warmth and all the sweetness, when she deigns to let any of it show. But he can't find the love he used to have. He wants harsh and cool and bitchy. And how fucked up is that?

"Stop staring at me, Stan." Michelle says with careless familiarity.

"Stop _staring _at me, Stan." Tea growls with foreign bite.

He jumps, startled because she hasn't said a word to him since The Night. "Sorry, Tay." The words fall out in a barely audible mumble. But he's doing cartwheels inside because she talked to him and he talked to her and that officially counts as a conversation.

And he knows that he's so very, very pathetic...

* * *

Tea's making out with some girl, and Stan feels sick. Sick the way watching Michelle and Tony used to make him. And he staring at her the way he used to stare at them.

"Stop oogling the lesbians, Stan." Tony says, clapping a hand on his shoulder. "It just pisses them off."

"I wasn't." Stan says, quickly turning away from Tea and her curerent hook-up.

"Sure you weren't." Tony sneers, with a practiced roll of his eyes before he disappears.

* * *

It's been weeks. And Stan knows that he has to let it go. Tea doesn't want him. Not like that. It was a fluke. A mistake brought on by too much to drink and too many drugs.

She's gay. A _lesbian_. As in, doesn't do dick. As in doesn't do _him_.

He has to move on, let go, all that other shit they make fucking hallmark cards for. He can't have her. He never could. It was one night, and it didn't mean a fucking thing to her. But he can't get over it.

Because it was one night, and it meant _everything _to him.


End file.
